


honey, we can run forever

by karasunotsubasa



Series: life and love, and zines [9]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon, Time Travel, mentions of future-past injury, older yuuri travels back in time, silly arguments are silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 04:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21093320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa
Summary: "It's 2018," Victor says, even though every word hurts. "When are you from?""Oh, I'm early then," the Yuuri says with a little smile. "I'm from 2024."Six years, Victor thinks. Six years... into the future.





	honey, we can run forever

**Author's Note:**

> this story has been written for the wonderful [@yoihomezine](https://yoihomezine.tumblr.com/), Dom edition, which I had the utmost pleasure of participating in a while back. it was a wonderful experience and I'm still really proud of this fic, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Yuuri, who looks like his Yuuri, who smiles like his Yuuri, who talks–

"So, when am I?" Yuuri asks, looking around the rink. "I assume this is still St. Petersburg?"

No, Victor decides, he doesn't talk like his Yuuri. He's bolder, more open, more... more _everything_. And Victor's heart aches, because this is most definitely _not_ his Yuuri.

He's only wearing a t-shirt and his sweats, and the coat and socks that Victor lent him as soon as they got him off the ice after he appeared in the place of Victor's Yuuri. It's the middle of practice on a second Tuesday in January and only a few moments after Yuuri got winked out of existence by Time, which happened so fast that Victor didn't even have the time to fully process his shock yet.

At that time, he was by the barrier, watching Yuuri skate. He can't help but think that maybe if he was by his side, they wouldn't be separated like this, but that... that is a fool's hope. No one could've predicted that right as Yuuri was spinning his last before taking the final pose of his 4CC winning free program – a gorgeous, gorgeous thing which makes Victor tear up like the most pathetic sap in the history of ever – the Ripple of Time would open up above him and suck him in whole.

To Victor's then relief, it spat him out a second later and Victor was on the ice before he even thought about it. He skated right into Yuuri, toppled them both to the ice, and it should've been fine. It should've been over, but–

This Yuuri, the one who has been returned, it isn't Victor's Yuuri.

"It's 2018," Victor says, even though every word hurts. "When are you from?"

"Oh, I'm early then," the Yuuri says with a little smile. "I'm from 2024."

Six years, Victor thinks. Six years... into the future.

He can't honestly help it when his eyes drop to this Yuuri's hands in search of a ring. It's a silly thing to worry about, what with the sudden time travel business and because there are as many futures as there are seconds in a person's life so a lack of a ring surely does not have to mean anything, but the thought of any of those futures denying him and Yuuri their happiness is too cruel to allow.

Victor's concern must be pretty obvious, or maybe Yuuri has gotten that good at reading him in those six years he has on him now, because he lifts both his hands to show him better, and smiles again when Victor quickly looks up, caught and lightly flushed.

"It's still at home," Yuuri explains to him. "I always take it off before bed after that one time when my finger got swollen overnight and it got so bad they had to cut the ring open in ER."

"That must have been painful," Victor agrees with a heartfelt wince.

Yuuri only shrugs at him, still wearing that little smile.

It's disconcerting, to be fair, that tiny smile. This man, this Yuuri, he looks like Yuuri – an older Yuuri, sure, – but that smile... it's a smile that Victor has never seen before. It's playful, it's secretive, it's... it's frankly not unlike a smirk, yet sweeter, and not something Victor could ever imagine on Yuuri's face.

And yet, here he is, seeing it front row.

"Are you still skating?" Victor asks to have something to fill the weirdly awkward silence that falls between them.

"Retired this past season. I got my five gold medals, so my coach went a little easy on me."

Yuuri's brown eyes twinkle with delight when Victor laughs. He's... he's different, Victor thinks, unable to keep the smile off his face even in the face of this strange, new Yuuri. He's _different_. Not better or worse, just different.

And yet, and yet he's still Yuuri.

He's not Victor's Yuuri, but he is still some other Victor's Yuuri. The love in Yuuri's eyes is as clear to see as it is in Victor's heart, which melts every time he looks at him, even though he knows this isn't the man he loves. But _it is_. Somewhat.

And it's so, so confusing.

"I won't ask for specifics, but you need to tell me a few things. I refuse to let this opportunity slip."

Victor sits down on the bleachers, patting the place at his side in a clear invitation, which Yuuri takes with a smile.

"Fine," Yuuri allows, tugging his legs under him to keep warm. "But I reserve the power to veto any of your questions. What do you want to know?"

It's what Victor has been waiting for, so he fires right away: "Do we finally get married?"

And that little not-smirk but not-a-smile is back on Yuuri's face. "Oh, I don't know... do we get married? I can't seem to recall, suddenly."

Victor gasps. And then he whines, and even as this Yuuri laughs, Victor hears the echo of his Yuuri laughing, and he begs again, "Yuuri, pleaseee."

Yuuri's still chuckling when he answers:

"Of course we get married, Vitya. Do you truly think anything could stop us?"

No, Victor smiles to himself, delighted beyond words, nothing could stop them, indeed.

But it's nice to hear the words anyway. Yuuri must know it, too, because his smile softens.

"You're still coaching," Yuuri tells him without prompting, "and you're amazing at it. Yura might not admit it, but he's happy to work with you."

"I'm coaching Yurio?" Victor is a little surprised that Yakov would give up his best student, but in six years... somehow he can see how their old coach could be fed up with all their antics. He hums in thought, pressing a finger to his lips. "What about others? What is Chris doing?"

Yuuri half snorts, half laughs at that.

"He's being a kept husband, that's what." At Victor's surprise, he explains: "His husband is his old choreographer, who owns this big dancing studio in Paris. They got married after Chris retired, and since he didn't know what to do with himself, he's just doing nothing and teaching pole dancing to a class or two every now and then. He's quite happy, I believe."

"Good for him." Victor smiles, honestly happy for their friend. "What about Phichit? And your parents? Mari?"

"Nothing at home changed much," Yuuri shrugs, but his eyes are warm when they look into Victor's as if he's touched that he asked. "The triplets started high school this year. They're absolute nightmare, I hear."

"I bet."

They trade grins, before Yuuri continues: "And Phichit is the current 4CC champion. Otabek gave him lots of trouble, but he did it. We're all very proud."

"Give him my congratulations when you see him next." Victor smiles, too. "Is Yurio winning anything now? I'm sure he'd love to hear it, too. Let's get him–"

He stands up to call for Yurio, but Yuuri stops him with a hand on his arm. Victor looks down, but it's only to see Yuuri shaking his head. His face is drawn, and he doesn't need to speak for Victor to know.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Nothing big, nothing temporary," Yuuri replies. "He's recovering well, even though he's angry at the whole world. Most of all, himself. It's quite a challenge to keep him settled, so he doesn't make everything worse."

"I'm sorry," Victor says automatically.

Yuuri smiles at him, a sweet little smile that reminds Victor so much of his Yuuri that he needs to blink and turn away. It hits him suddenly that his Yuuri is gone. Squeezing his eyes hard, Victor takes a shuddering breath. It's only temporary, he tells himself. It'll be all over soon, he tried to convince his heart, which aches and aches and hurts.

He opens his eyes again to a mostly open ice, since it's Yuuri's practice time. With the Yuuri of this time gone, however, there is no one to skate on it now. This other Yuuri must be thinking the same thing, too, because he gently nudges Victor with his elbow.

"Why don't you go skate something for me," he offers with that peculiar little smile of his. "I haven't seen you run a practice skate through in ages."

"What? I don't skate anymore?"

That... that hurts.

The thought of not skating, even if it's years in the future, it terrifies him. What is he doing then? Is he only coaching? Without stepping foot on the ice like Yakov? Like an old man who can't handle the weight of his own body anymore?

He blinks out of shock when Yuuri boops his nose with a finger. He blinks again when he smiles, and just stares at him, when Yuuri says:

"Silly. Of course you skate. You just don't do full programs anymore. Your knee might not bother you most of the days, but straining it is never a good idea, so we made a deal."

"What deal?" Victor can't help asking, but Yuuri shakes his head.

"You'll have to wait and see," he answers, smiling that mischievous smile. "Now, will you skate something for me? Please?"

Well, Victor can't just say no to that, can he?

So he skates Stammi Vicino, because that is sure to make Yuuri happy – and it does. Yuuri's smile is mellow and sweet when Victor skates back to him, breathing just a little heavy. Yuuri reaches for his hand and squeezes it warmly.

"Thank you," he says. "That was beautiful, Vitya."

And Victor blushes, because it might not be his Yuuri saying that, but if any Yuuri thinks of him like Victor thinks of his Yuuri, then it's just as precious.

"I like how you say my name now," he tells Yuuri, content to let their hands stay together on the rink barrier. "Maybe I should ask my Yuuri to say it like that, too."

The other Yuuri laughs. "You should. I'm sure he will be a lovely sight, all flushed and stuttering."

"Were you?" Victor asks with a smile of his own.

This Yuuri, after all, doesn't look like he gets embarrassed about anything. It's quite odd, because Victor knows Yuuri, and he knows his shy side and his wilder side, too, but this built-up confidence, this grounded certainty and reassurance in Yuuri – it's something terribly alluring on its own as well.

"Was I a flushed, stuttering mess? Oh, definitely. I mean, have you met me?" Yuuri's eyes dance with mirth, and Victor doesn't hold back his grin. "I'm still doing all that when you tease me enough." He says it lightly, and he pokes Victor's stomach with a finger. "Or, well, when my Vitya does it, I guess."

It's easy, being around this Yuuri, and it's almost like being with his Yuuri, too. But almost... almost isn't good enough. And Yuuri's little comment makes Victor painfully aware of that.

They both go quiet for a moment.

"How long do you think you'll stay?" Victor asks.

"I don't know," Yuuri admits quietly. "I don't... I don't really want to think about it, you know? It's scary."

"Yeah," Victor agrees, turning his hand around until he can squeeze Yuuri's in a weak attempt at reassurance, even if he himself feels just as lost. "It's scary. But we'll be fine as long as we stick together. And Yuuri, my Yuuri, he'll be fine, too, right? Your Victor... he'll help him out, right?"

"I'm sure he will."

Yuuri squeezes back Victor's hand, but somehow, even though his touch is warm, Victor can't really say it helped. If anything, it made the ache in his heart stronger, but after looking into Yuuri's eyes and seeing the same kind of despair, Victor can at least lean forward and rest his head on Yuuri's shoulder and offer his own in support.

After all, together, they can handle this... right?

***

"What? No! I insist, Yuuri. You take the bed." Victor, with a blanket slung over his shoulder, nods towards the master bedroom. "You're a guest. I can't let you sleep in the other room."

"Vitya, I will not chase you out of your own bed," Yuuri tells him again, a stubborn frown on his face. "The guest room is fine. There's a good bed there, I will be alright."

"If the bed is good there then why are you even arguing?" Victor asks again. "I will take it and that's the end of it."

"Hey!"

Yuuri calls after him when Victor turns away to go into the guest room and make the bed for himself. In a few strides, Yuuri is by his side and nabs the blanket off Victor's shoulder.

"I know you like to sleep on your left side, Vitya," Yuuri tells him. "And in the guest room you'll be stepping out of the bed on your left leg. Think of your knee, please. I'll take the guest room, it's fine."

"My knee is fine, Yuuri," Victor protests, grabbing the blanket. "I'm skating! If it wasn't fine I wouldn't be able to do that, you know?"

"I know, but it doesn't mean you have to risk it! Accidents happen!"

Yuuri tugs at the blanket, but Victor holds on strong.

"It's just a bed, nothing will happen!"

He tugs on it too, but Yuuri is ready and just tugs harder.

"But what if _it does_? Why would you risk it when I'm telling you, you don't have to?"

It's ridiculous, this fight they're having, because... because it's so silly? It's unimportant? Except it is important, and Victor tugs on the blanket in petty, petty revenge. His plan fails, however, when Yuuri tugs back, and harder, and Victor– God, _it's so stupid_– his sock slips on the floorboards and he falls forward like an idiot: and right into Yuuri's arms.

They land in a heap on the floor, blanket discarded between them, to equal groans of pain. Makkachin clambers over their heads to see if they're both alright, and they are. Victor knows they are, because this is a silly thing, and a little fall, but–

"Vitya, are you okay?" Yuuri asks, resting his hand on the side of Victor's neck. "Your knee, did you hit–"

"What's up with you and my knee?" Victor can't help but snap.

The moment he does, he regrets it. Yuuri's eyes widen and his lips tremble before he purses them together in a hard line. His hand, like hot iron, drops from Victor's neck.

"Sorry," Yuuri gives, his voice stilted. "I'm– I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm," Victor takes a breath, sitting up, "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have snapped. You were only worrying about me."

The way Yuuri stays on the floor and covers his eyes with one hand serves Victor right for his silly anger.

"Say, Yuuri," he asks, subdued, "did something happen to me? To the future me? My knee... you keep hinting at it, but did I get injured again?"

Yuuri never answers, but his jaw tightens enough to give Victor an answer.

"Was it skating?"

"No," Yuuri says, and his voice comes out hoarse as if he's struggling to keep emotions at bay. "It wasn't skating. And I– I never want to see you in so much pain again, but it's– It's not your problem to worry about just yet."

He drops his hand and sits up too, but he doesn't look at Victor. It hurts, as much as it would hurt if it was his Yuuri in front of him, Victor thinks. He can't reach out to this Yuuri, though, because this Yuuri climbs to his feet and grabs the blanket with him, leaving Victor kneeling on the floor: lost, contrite, and hurting, even though he isn't _hurt_.

"I'll take the guest room," Yuuri says.

The soft sound of his footsteps sounds far more lonely than Victor himself feels when Makkachin gently butts his nose against his hand.

***

On the third day of Yuuri's visit, he stays home.

There is still something tense between them. Yuuri has already apologized and Victor accepted, giving his own apology as well, and all should go back to normal – and it does, as normal as it can be with a time traveller instead of your fiancé – but the thing about Time is that it never stops, much less goes back, even when it fucks up.

Victor goes to practice, skates, eats, skates some more, heads to the gym, and then back home. And all throughout, he can't help the feeling that he's missing something. Well, obviously, he's missing his Yuuri, but that, that is not entirely it. It's a part of it, yes, but another part is a part that feels decidedly awful about upsetting the other Yuuri.

It was just a misunderstanding, after all.

To Yuuri, however, it clearly wasn't just that.

Victor knows his Yuuri enough to tell when not to push, when Yuuri wants him to just stay by his side and offer comfort and support by simply being there, but this Yuuri isn't his Yuuri. Maybe he is, a little bit, but he also isn't – he's older, he's more self-assured, and he's someone that Victor can't fully predict. And, Victor finds, he can't really make him feel any better.

He's not that Yuuri's Vitya.

One day he might be, but now? Now he's just a younger version of this Yuuri's husband, and, oh, what a painful thing it must be to see Victor there, but a Victor who doesn't know him as Yuuri knows him. A Victor, who still cares for him, but lacks all the memories and feelings they shared for the past six years... It must be excruciating, this kind of thing, and Victor understands Yuuri's silent withdrawal. Were he in the same position, he probably would've done the same, he believes.

So... Victor leaves him alone. For the day, and just that.

As soon as he gets home from practice, he plans to take Yuuri out for dinner and walk with him along the Neva, and hold his hand like he would hold his Yuuri's, because they might be two pieces of different halves, and they might be missing the ones their hearts have sworn themselves to, but despite all that they are still meant to be together, and Victor will be damned if he lets his future self down like this.

The flat is quiet when he shrugs off his coat and hangs it by the door. Only the low murmur of the TV disturbs the silence. Makkachin jumps off the couch when Victor softly calls for him and his little feet padding across the open floorboards make more noise than everything else altogether.

Victor greets his loyal friend with a smile and a good dozen of kisses and scratches to his furry head, before he finally looks around for Yuuri. He finds him on the couch, too, curled under a blanket, sleeping. It shouldn't be surprising, with how quiet it is, but to Victor it's a surprise nonetheless.

Yuuri looks so much younger like this, almost like Victor's own Yuuri, sleep-soft and mellow, and Victor is powerless to resist the longing in his heart. Slowly, afraid to wake him up, he perches on the edge of the couch and lifts a tender hand to brush Yuuri's hair away from his forehead.

It's even softer than he remembers.

He runs his fingers through the black mess, unable to tell if that is because this Yuuri takes better care of his hair or if Victor has just spent so long without touching it that he's forgotten how it feels against his skin. It could be both, it could be neither. But Victor's heart squeezes in his chest anyway.

He stops his petting when Yuuri stirs, nearly pulls back his hand, but Yuuri snatches it before he can. His touch is as gentle as Victor's has been, so Victor doesn't protest against letting him pull it close to his lips.

Yuuri rests a little sleepy kiss to Victor's fingers, smiling a sweet ghost of a smile. Victor's heart only squeezes harder.

"Did I wake you?" he asks. "Sorry about that. I'll... I should probably start on dinner if you're awake."

"It's fine," Yuuri mumbles.

He doesn't open his eyes, doesn't seem too focused, either. Almost as if he's sleep-talking, one leg still in the land of dreams. He murmurs his words into Victor's hand, which he holds captive under his chin like a stuffed toy, and he looks small. Smaller than Victor has seen him in the few days they've been together.

"Come cuddle with me first," Yuuri asks, shifting back a little to make space for Victor on the couch.

"We probably shouldn't–"

Yuuri's hum is enough to break Victor's resistance into nothing. Blindly, Yuuri reaches his arm around him and pulls him gently to lie down.

And Victor goes along with it. Lets himself be held, wrapped in Yuuri's arms and pressed to Yuuri's chest, and–

He gives a little sigh, too.

"Are you okay?" Yuuri asks.

His breath is warm against Victor's nape and he closes his eyes against the sensation. It feels a little bit like a kiss could be pressed there any second–

Just when he thinks that, Yuuri's lips meet the skin right where Victor's hair ends, and he shivers.

"Are you?" he asks back.

Yuuri doesn't answer that. He sighs as well, and murmurs into Victor's shoulder: "That was a stupid question, I suppose. Sorry."

Instead of arguing, Victor takes one of Yuuri's hands – the one that has comfortingly settled over his stomach – and kisses his palm in reply. For a moment they stay quiet, just like that: two lost hearts in a need of warmth. And it's there, that warmth. Love is between them, even if it isn't meant for them directly.

It feels strange to know that, and it feels stranger still to take comfort in it, but Victor is glad for this anyway. If Time didn't offer him the company of this Yuuri, he would be all alone. And that... that would've been too painful to bear, he knows.

"Let's go out tomorrow," Victor says, thinking back to his grand plans. "Let's have some fun, Yuuri. Sitting here at home can only get depressing."

"Where do you want to go?" Yuuri asks back, which Victor counts as a win, since it isn't a direct no.

"I was thinking dinner, then maybe a walk? You haven't seen the–"

He stops, just like that. Because this isn't his Yuuri. This is a Yuuri who has been living with Victor for six years, and this Yuuri surely must have seen enough of St. Petersburg in his time here.

"I probably have," Yuuri admits when Victor stays silent for longer than he should. "But... I haven't seen them with you? We could still go, if you want to."

Yuuri's hand turns in Victor's until he can thread their fingers together.

A little squeeze, a little kiss pressed to the sensitive spot between Victor's neck and shoulder, and a little whispered, "Thank you, Vitya. Let's do it," is all it takes for Victor to realize that maybe Yuuri wasn't sent here to keep him from the despairing loneliness, and maybe he wasn't sent here so that Victor could give him love and comfort, either.

Maybe... maybe it's a little bit of both, equally, yet just as needed.

***

It's easier to be together after that day. It isn't _easy_, despite what they may want, but it's easier, somehow.

Victor wakes up in his empty bed, turns on the coffee machine and takes Makka on his morning jog, while Yuuri is still sleeping in the guest room. By the time he gets back, Yuuri is up and the breakfast is ready, and it almost feels like every other day with his Yuuri when they hug in greeting. Sometimes, Yuuri even comes with him to the rink, watches him practice and waves from the rinkside in faux cheerfulness, as if everything's alright.

He's trying, it's clear. And so, Victor tries, too.

"Come skate with me," he asks one day when he's packing his skates. "You only just retired. I'm sure your spins can still put me to shame."

Yuuri hums with that little smirk of his. "And my quad axel."

Victor has to gasp at that.

"Your _what?!_ Yuuri!"

Yuuri laughs, confronted with the mixture of delight, pride, surprise and awe on Victor's face. Softly, so very softly as if he's afraid to do it at all, he ruffles Victor's hair a little. Victor only grins at him, which eases some unnamed tension from Yuuri's back and allows him to say:

"Fine, I'll come skating with you."

It's a similar kind of excitement in Victor's heart that he feels when Yuuri steps onto the ice of Yubileyny as he felt when his Yuuri took to the ice here for the first time. Yuuri's warm up is a familiar thing and Victor runs through it at his side, smiling when Yuuri smiles. And when Yuuri asks him to watch him, he can only breathe a weak, "Always," because it's the song of truth his heart sings, no matter which Yuuri is out there skating.

"He'll skate this for you one day," Yuuri tells him, eyes soft. "Your Yuuri."

Victor is fairly sure that it isn't him that Yuuri's unfocused eyes are seeing now, but someone older. Someone, who shares this Yuuri's memories, a whole six wonderful years of them.

Victor links their fingers together. "It's special for us, isn't it? Like Stammi Vicino?"

"I think this one is a little more special."

Yuuri's smile is sweet when he lifts their hands and kisses Victor's ring. The ring, which he refuses to stop wearing. The ring that ties him and his Yuuri together even through the expanse of Time.

Victor presses his own lips against that ring as Yuuri skates off to the centre of the ice. There is no music when he moves from the starting pose, but Victor doesn't need it – he never needed music to see it in Yuuri's skating. With eyes wide open, he follows Yuuri on the ice: through the spins that squeeze at his heart with effortless beauty and grace, and the footwork that steals his breath, and the jumps... and yes, that_ is_ a quad axel, _oh God_.

Victor can't make out the expression on Yuuri's face, not fully, but he catches a glimpse of the wistful smile on his lips and the yearning in his eyes, and he knows: this is more than special.

He already feels it, though. In every single of Yuuri's moves, in every single of his steps, there is a longing, an ode to love, clear as the sound of his skates cutting the ice.

And it's for Victor.

The other Victor, yes, but the other Victor who once was _this_ Victor, seeing it for the first time and drowning in love, because Victor is sure that no matter how many years pass, he will still be madly, irrevocably in love with–

Yuuri stops in his final position, much akin to the ending of Yuuri!!! on Ice, where his arm is stretched out to Victor and his other hand rests over his heart, but this time... this time he's kneeling too, and–and–

It's a silly thing, Victor thinks to his heart, to think of something so unreal now, but Yuuri looks... he looks as if he is–

The zipper on Yuuri's jacket glints in the overhead lights, a little blinding thing, and Victor blinks once. Just once.

And then, then Yuuri is gone.

Victor doesn't see the Ripple of Time, doesn't feel it at all. Yuuri is just gone and Victor's breath rushes out of him faster than it ever did. He doesn't get to hope, doesn't get to feel the surprise or expectation, because he hasn't even taken another breath yet when Time shifts again and Yuuri, another Yuuri, shows up on the ice in the exact place his other self was kneeling just a second ago.

He's wearing skates and looks at Victor like he knows him: hopeful, and scared, and lost.

Victor's skating towards him before he thinks twice about it. Gently, because he's now afraid, too, he offers his hands to Yuuri, who just as tentatively takes them.

"Are you...?" Yuuri breathes, and doesn't finish.

But Victor knows what he means to ask. "It's 2018, St. Petersburg. We've been together for two years now. I'm your coach and we're skating together my last season. I'm going to retire after Worlds, after you've won gold for us."

"Not if you do," Yuuri answers.

His voice comes easier, and his hands turn in Victor's to slide their fingers together. Their rings glint brightly – two parts of one whole.

"Yuuri," Victor breathes, like he wants to cry from happiness, but also like he wants to argue and chide him, too, because Yuuri should know he's capable of winning everything he sets his eyes on – even... _especially_ Victor's love and support.

"Victor," Yuuri returns, as if he knows all of that.

And that, that is all they need to know.

Victor doesn't know who moves first, but they are soon wrapped in each other's arms so neatly, so tightly, that he can feel Yuuri's heart yammering against his chest, and he is certain that his own must be doing it, too.

But it's alright, it's okay. This is his Yuuri, his life and love, the man who opened his eyes and allowed him to be who Victor always wanted to be: a man happy and loving, and _loved_.

"Tadaima," Yuuri whispers against Victor's shoulder, where he has pressed his face, breathing him in deeply, desperately.

Suddenly choked, Victor can only press a kiss to Yuuri's hair and hide his own tear-filled eyes from him while his arms tighten around that which means the most to him.

"Okaeri."

And when Victor injures his knee, and when Yuuri skates this program to him again, and when soon after he whispers the soft "Marry me, Victor," that Victor gives a breathless, wet with happy laughter "Yes!" to, Victor knows.

Through Time and space... This heart, Yuuri's heart, has become his home. For now, and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're wondering what happened to victor's knee... makka got bitten on a rainy day and vitya was running up the stairs with her and slipped, protecting her over his knee, which he hit on a step. makka was fine after some stitching, but vitya's knee... well. you know what happens next.
> 
> on this uplifting note, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this fic 😉❤️


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